At the Onset of Extinction
And there it was; The vast desert on the palm of my hand An ocean of black sands Without borders or name Only seen by those Who are willing to see An angel flew across the landscape Faceless and obscure Singing songs of salvation Redemption thru’ self-harm and suicide “Acts of violence are of God and thus divine” Said the tongue of drought Somewhere in the labyrinth Of my mind Are these sensations of pain Reflections of my true nature Or broken images From a meaningless dream That ends as surely as The life itself A shadow flew across the landscape Shapeless and enigmatic Shrieking songs of salvation Redemption thru’ self-harm and suicide There it was; The vast black desert And I In the middle of everything Every single cell of my body Screaming in cacophonous unison Slowly drowning Into the circle of consumption
Submitted by BloodShrine — Jun 21, 2026
Falling through white marble skies Floating in the primordial waters Where all the thoughts and words are born A total death trip Have you ever tried to reach The shadows in the corners of your eyes And suddenly got devoured By the jaws of abyssal darkness Cleanse me! Purify me From the memories and deeds that I am Devour my heart and flesh Let them be reborn as a new me Inside my true mothers womb I murdered myself multiple times And the corpses gave birth To a seven headed beast Again... A total death trip Fly across the shining marble Drown in the stygian streams A total death trip! Cleanse me! Purify me From the memories and deeds that I am Devour my heart and flesh Let them be reborn as a new me
Submitted by BloodShrine — Jun 21, 2026
Inside the circle of pain, of fear and cold reality of hopelessness Did you really believe that the seeds of consolation would bloom here Mass consumption of blood and souls Let their every cell become a part of this offering Their throats are cut by the shards of broken promises Broken like this world of glass Broken like the spine of Yahweh Mass dissolution of blood and souls Let the womb of horrors open again And we shall sing a song for the new order in burning heaven Upon the throne of shattered bones Praised be that day Every mouth chanting the strangest prayer in the name of the angel of thousand forms Who once will crawl forth from the womb of death ...praised be that day!
Submitted by BloodShrine — Jun 21, 2026
The mistress of the dead appears Not to be dressed in black But in varying shades of red Like the certain countess The crescent is her sword And the sun is the spirits of fiery death Summoned through Our throats and wounds And soon we all bathe in blood Like the certain lady once in Cachtice Where will your gods be When your sons grow foolish and impotent And you are too weak To fight for a proper future Where will your faith be When your daughters carry barren wombs Giving birth to The new defeats of tomorrow During the days of total genocide We float like ashen grey flakes And watch the worlds of men burn Just like they deserve No hope at the end of the darkest road Just plain, simple, quick crack in the neck And we will watch the world burn Just like it deserves In the scorching fires of Ragnarök It shall be made as new
Submitted by BloodShrine — Jun 21, 2026